Truly and Really Okay
by thousand.stars
Summary: Honestly, there were only a handful of things which truly bugged her Hermione about Harry – the biggest one being something which caused her to doubt their future, together, as a couple. How could Hermoine be sure that she and Harry were truly and really (lets-spend-the-rest-of-our-lives-together) okay?


**AN:** All things Harry Potter are owned by J.K Rowling! The story is just for my amusement~ Hope you enjoy, reviews are always welcome :)

**Truly and Really Okay**

When Harry and Hermione first got together, no one was surprised. In fact, out of everyone, the two people who seemed the most surprised, were the two people within the couple - which was ridiculous because to everyone else it had seemed inevitable. Because honestly, who else could have put up with Harry's inexpiable need for every single cupboard in the apartment to be empty? In fact, when Ron had visited them for the first time after moving in together he noticed that their whole apartment was filled with drawers and only drawers. Drawers, filled to the brim and made of wood, plastic and magic, whilst every cupboard and closet was empty. Similarly, who in their right mind wouldn't have been driven crazy by Hermione's constant hoarding of notes? Sticky notes littered their apartment, containing odds and ends of things she read and learned, both useful (sometimes) and useless (most of the time). Cookbooks, story books and newspapers alike all contained neat little scribbles in their margins. Hermione, for her part, defended the infiltration of two inch squared paper with her usual, "_you never know when we'll need it_". Harry, for his part, never thought to ask. However, they made it work, quirks and all, living happily together in their house of drawers and notes.

Honestly, there were only a handful of things which truly bugged her Hermione about Harry – the biggest one being something which caused her to doubt their future, together, as a couple. In typical Harry fashion, it wasn't something that he habitually said, but rather it was a lack of words. He did not whisper words of affections or murmur sweet nothings into her ear, which honestly she could live without since she was never fond of those things anyway, but what got to her the most was that he never said_ "I love you"_.

After months of analyzing, she had come to the conclusion that it was because he simply did not trust the value of words. He saw them as vehicles for empty promise and after years of being by his side how could she not understand? She had, after all, been there when all the words that came out of his mouth were waiting to be twisted into lies and how they had been another way for secrets to be kept or betrayals to be made.

However on a certain level, she just did not, could not, understand. She loved words and all they could mean and did. They had been doors to another world where she wasn't tormented or humiliated, where they weren't being chased by a fanatical lunatic that only wanted them dead. Words had protected her and allowed her to protect him. Helped her learn new things or revisit old memories, but most of all she thought words were beautiful because they allowed one to be heard and understood.

But despite all that, she accepted it.

Besides, he showed her everyday how much she meant to him, how much he wanted her (needed her).

And shouldn't that be enough?

Yet she couldn't deny, no matter how much she wanted to, that it would have been nice to hear those three little words (just once). And it was this that caused her to sometimes, not often (but more than she liked) lie awake at night and wonder if they were okay. Truly and really (lets-spend-the-rest-of-our-lives-together) okay - because every girl wanted to hear those words once.

Eventually though, she gave up on the thought of hearing them because she knew even though he didn't say it, he meant it. He had shown her that he would sacrifice everything for her, fight mountain trolls for her, and always stay by her side.

That was her _"I love you" _and it was enough. It had to be.

So, on a miserable Thursday afternoon in their living room when he finally said it, said "_I love you",_ she did what any other normal person in her situation would do.

She choked on her tea, because of course Harry would choose that exact moment to tell her. She then proceeded to snog him senseless which ended in their bed, surrounded by drawers and notes. As she lay there next to him in the aftermath, with his arm lazily draped around her waist she whispered,

"_Why after now?"_ Why after almost a year (not including the seven danger filled, adrenaline fueled years of Hogwarts), after she had basically given up had he said those words? Logically she knew it was silly and shallow and she should just be happy he finally said it, but she couldn't stop her mind from whirling and wondering.

"_I don't know... it just felt right. I mean, it's you and me and it just seemed right after all this time..."_ a drowsy voice replied.

"_What a typical Harry answer –"_

"_With you, words are different, they mean something, everything. And I just wanted for you to know that you are something, everything to me...in a way you would understand" _he stammered.

And in that moment, those simple graceless words made her happier than any poem or sonnet Harry could have ever written her. Sure, Harry wasn't vocal, he would definitely never serenade her with love songs and she was constantly knocking her knees on all the open drawers in their house. There would be no long winded speeches of romance and their house would always be cluttered, but she realized that lying there in the dark, that they were finally truly and really (lets-spend-the-rest-of-our-lives-together) okay. So, when he eventually asked her to marry him (and he would, she seen the ring in his sock drawer) she would say yes because she knew they were truly and really okay.


End file.
